The Best Season
by MoonyOokami
Summary: Alfred never really liked winter, it was so cold! But a memory from a long time ago rekindles his appreciation for this season. First story, reviews are appreciated! Oh, I added another chapter, I'll be continuing this story. Rated T for mostly language.
1. Chapter 1

Alfred sighed as he glanced solemnly out the window, the scene outside was of powdery snow drifting from the heavens and painting the ground pure white. The bare branches of the leafless trees were brimmed with snowflakes and a pale blanket of snow covered all of the roof tops of the neighboring houses. It would've been a beautiful sight for anyone who bothered to stop and look at it. Not Alfred, though. He blinked wearily at the scenery outside; his fingers were tapping apprehensively on the window pane.

Alfred was never very fond of winter; he couldn't cope with how cold it was. It also made him feel lonely, unwanted…unloved. Every time a wintry breeze ruffled his dark blonde hair, every single time he felt the snow melt against his skin, this feeling of yearning would well up inside of him…But for what exactly? He would always search for it in his thoughts, but it would only reveal itself as a disfigured silhouette, Alfred knew it was there, yet he couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be, let alone reach out for it. But maybe he was looking in the wrong place all along. If the answer wasn't in his _thoughts_, maybe it was in his _memories…?_

* * *

It was a long time ago…a little over 200 years. Alfred woke up to something just like this; the world just outside the window was pure white and only the dark branches of the trees peeked out from under the massive layer of snow. This younger Alfred had never seen or known anything about snow before, but he's curious. The first and only thing that crossed his mind when he sees this is: "It looks fluffy."

Alfred blinked the sleep out of his sky blue eyes, and jumped out of his bed, not bothering to put on some extra clothes, since he's not aware of how cold it's going to be. He raced down the hall, making sure his footsteps were soft, being careful not to wake anyone (Arthur) up. He reached up for the brass door knob and flung the door open, seeing nothing but white, which just made him more excited. But then, when he raced out the door, the cold hit him and he fell down face first into the snow. It was anything but fluffy, he realized.

When he came to his senses and opened his eyes, everything was blurry. He shivered and felt tears rolling incessantly down his cheeks. His hands and face, he noticed, had gone completely numb, his hair stuck uncomfortably against his cheeks and his clothes were all wet. Alfred sat up straight in the snow, trying to get up, but failing to do so each time. He started wailing loudly when he finally gave up, sitting dejectedly in the snow.

"Alfred? Alfred?" the familiar voice was coming from inside the house, gradually getting closer. Alfred automatically stopped crying and tried standing up again. He didn't want Arthur seeing him this way.

"Alfred! What in the world happened to you?" He could hear the snow crunching under Arthur's feet. Alfred's fear of embarrassment suddenly went away, replaced with hope that his older brother would save him.

"I'm sorry," the little boy sniffed as Arthur picked him up, "I've never seen the white stuff before." When he pressed against the older nation's body, his warmth washed over him like a wave.

Arthur was using his sleeve to dry Alfred's face, which was wet with melting snow and tears. "It's okay," he murmured reassuringly, hugging him tightly before checking if his little brother was injured anywhere. Alfred felt so much safer now, in his arms.

The older brother carried him into the house and had him change out of his wet clothes. After Alfred switched into something drier, Arthur settled him into his own bed, then climbing in with him, so they would keep each other warm. Alfred snuggled against Arthur's body as the older brother tucked him tightly into the bed. Then, he took Alfred's small hands in his and rubbed them together. Even though Arthur's own hands had also gone cold, there was still an incredible amount of warmth within his touch.

"What was the white stuff? Why did it come here? Why is it cold?" the inquisitive questions came automatically after young Alfred recovered from the shock.

Arthur laughed softly, and gently put the back of his hand to Alfred's cheek. It seemed like every time Arthur touched him, he got warmer and warmer. "It's snow, and it came here because it's winter time. It's naturally cold," he explained soothingly, "Winter's a really important season."

"It is?" Alfred didn't believe him completely, still resenting this 'snow' for causing so much trouble, "How?"

"Because since it's cold, I'll have a reason to cuddle with you all the time!" Arthur joked, hugging him tighter, and Alfred's doubt suddenly melted away.

* * *

_Ring Ring Ring…_

"Come on…answer the phone, will you?" Alfred murmured impatiently, away from the speaker, in case Arthur really did pick up just then. He sighed and tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind his ear. Just before he decided he was going to hang up, the receiver clicked.

"What do you want?" The accented voice on the other side was irritable, as usual, of course, "Do you have any bloody idea how late it is over here?"

Alfred mechanically glanced at his clock, which read 7 o'clock. _'New York and London…Five hour time difference…it's midnight in London, stupid!' _he thought grimly to himself.

"My bad," Alfred laughed nervously, trying to hide his frustration at the bad start.

"You still haven't answered my question…" Arthur mumbled dully. Alfred could hear the other nation tapping his fingers impatiently on something.

"Oh, yeah…" Alfred paused for a moment, and then said hesitantly, "Do you want to…come over?"

"Why would I do that?" Arthur's voice sounded both flustered and severe. He really couldn't figure him out at all, but it didn't matter.

"It's cold here," Alfred blurted out, without considering his words more carefully. He didn't even realize that those words fell from his lips before he could even process them through his head.

"That's not a reason…" Arthur commented drily.

"Yes it is! I need you to come and warm me up."

An awkward silence came immediately after those words escaped his lips, and all Alfred could hear was Arthur's breathing on the other side of the line. Despite the lack of words spoken between them, Alfred could tell Arthur was definitely taken aback.

"Earth to Arthur…" Alfred attempted to continue the conversation.

"You are such an idiot," was the chagrined response.

"Just because I wanted to cuddle with you? I remember you telling me that you liked winter because it gave you a reason to cuddle me all the time," Alfred said, smirking to himself, he could just see Arthur blush furiously on the other side of the Atlantic.

"That was before," Arthur said coolly, obviously trying to hide his bemusement.

"Ouch," Alfred easily feigned the hurt in his tone, "So do you wanna come over or not?"

"And 'warm you up'? I think not, that'd be stupid," Arthur scoffed.

"Stop doing that! I know you don't mean it, I know you want to," Alfred laughed, "Just come over! Pleeeeaaaaseeee?"

He heard Arthur let out a heavy sigh, "Fine, then… I was thinking about going somewhere warmer for the winter, anyway."

Alfred rolled his eyes and smirked, '_What a lie!'_

"But don't you dare do anything stupid. And I am _not_ going to warm you up."

If only the older nation could see him now, Alfred was smiling so much, his mouth was starting ache. "Whatever you say, I can't wait."

"Whatever."

And Arthur hung up.

Alfred couldn't stop smiling, even after he put his phone down. He leaned against the window and ignored how icy cold it was against his skin. He closed his eyes and sighed, "Winter is the best season after all…"


	2. Chapter 2

I made the mistake of not doing this before. xD

Well... disclaimer - I don't own Hetalia or the awesome characters. ;-;

And there's slash content, so if you don't like it, there's no need to read it.

Please enjoy. :)

* * *

"'Warm me up' my arse…" Arthur was mumbling crossly to no one in particular, even though there were about maybe a hundred people or so that were passing by him on the streets of New York City. He went on with his ramblings without even noticing once that he was receiving odd looks from a bystander every now and then.

He'd be lying if he said he came here just to admire this city's heaven-reaching architecture and diverse food. It'd be a bigger lie if he told someone he visited because it was warmer than his native London, because so far, it wasn't.

There was definitely another reason, and it was much more unreasonable than the other ones… not that he'd ever tell anyone about it.

Not only did he have to cope with a loudmouth American for the rest of his time here, he had ever so conveniently bumped into a certain arsehole of a Frenchman not too long ago. Could it get any worse for Arthur?

He continued walking aimlessly until he found himself in front of Alfred's house. The bastard didn't even think about being considerate and picking him up himself. _He_ was the one who made him come over this wretched place. Okay, maybe he didn't exactly _make_ him come here but… to hell with the bloody American's persistence.

"Hey there! Arthur!"

Speak of the devil; Alfred was looking at him through a crack in the door and wore an annoyingly happy smile that gave Arthur what was thought to be a total migraine. The younger nation was gesturing for him to come in, but Arthur didn't budge.

"The gate is closed, you idiot."

"Oh, my bad," Alfred hopped over and pushed open the steel gate after unlocking it. He took Arthur by the hand and led him into the house.

Though the Englishman was thickly clad, he'd forgotten to put on his gloves before catching his plane to New York, and ended up completely regretting it (up till then, Arthur had honestly thought that his fingers would all freeze completely and drop off one by one before he even got to Alfred's house), but now that the American was holding him… he felt really warm… and he didn't just feel this in his hand.

No…it must've been something he ate in the airplane or whatever… and of course Alfred's hand was warm, the lazy arse was probably playing video games in front of the TV, while planted on the couch and with the heater on. Yep, that made sense to Arthur's pride... that must have been it.

"So, what do you wanna do?" Alfred dropped onto the couch and stared expectantly at Arthur.

"You were the one who wanted me to come over, why are you asking me?" He answered crossly, slipping off his coat and trying to find a place for it on the coat rack, which was already occupied with a disarray of jackets. When his coat slipped off the other clothes, he let out an exasperated sigh and glared furiously at the Alfred, who returned the look with an innocent smile. "God, you're messy."

"Eh, just put your stuff on the couch or something, I'll put it away later," the American shrugged and motioned to the empty space beside him.

"Oh, sure, that's better," Arthur murmured dully, setting his coat and bag onto the sofa and then seating himself in a vacant armchair.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?" Alfred offered cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the fact that only five minutes had passed since Arthur stepped into his house, and he was already irritated at him. Not to mention Arthur despised coffee… especially when he was around Alfred.

"No." Arthur didn't even bother to ask for tea, since Alfred never had any.

"Okay, I'll go make some."

Arthur gave Alfred an annoyed look as the American got up from the sofa and made his way to what was probably the kitchen. Did Alfred even bother listening to anything he said? He shouldn't have asked him if he was going to do it anyways, how annoying.

The Englishman sighed and looked around the living room. There were video games and game consoles scattered on the ground, magazines and (comic) books were carelessly tossed wherever. You honestly couldn't even tell that Alfred had a floor. He was just hopeless.

Arthur got up from the leather armchair and decided from the goodness of his heart to tidy up for his ex-colony. Before he could gather up all the empty video game cases and discarded magazines, Alfred came back into the room.

"I ran out of coffee," he said, giving Arthur a surprised look. Arthur felt blood rushing to his cheeks and his face felt hot. Damn, was he blushing?

"Oh, that's just too bad," the Briton remarked sarcastically, and sat back down with everything he picked up in his lap.

"I know, right?" Alfred shook his head shamefully, as if running out of coffee was some kind of inexcusable crime punishable by death.

"God, you idiot, I was being-"

"Hey, you don't need to clean up for me or anything; I'll get to it myself... eventually."

"I- I wasn't doing it for you! I was bored, so I figured I'd read something to kill time…" Arthur lied. He was going to make a snide comment about Alfred's lack of responsibility, but this escaped his lips instead. After he recovered from the shock and flipped open one of the magazines to make it more convincing.

"Uh-huh, sure," Alfred gave him a smug grin.

'_Shit, can he see through me?'_

"Well, as I said, I ran out of coffee," Alfred continued, "C'mon, we're gonna go buy some." He reached for Arthur's arm and helped him up. Everything that was originally on the Englishman's lap fell to the floor.

It seemed like Alfred didn't catch his lie. Arthur felt both relieved and disappointed. Oh well, like Alfred had the mental capacity to sniff it out.

"Why do I have to go with you? Aren't you old enough to go yourself? I don't even like coffee."

"Well…" Alfred smirked at him again, "I figured that way you won't be so 'bored' anymore."


End file.
